Page 20 of On His Knees

“He, uh...” She hesitates, then says, “He’ll have to call you back.”

Why the hell won’t Granddad take my call? Does he know what I’m up to? “Can you tell him it’s important?”

“Of course I will. Bye for now.” And just like that the line goes dead. Son of a bitch.

I shove my phone into the front pocket of my jeans, and step back into the main room, the fire now heating the place back up again. I’m not sure what comes next, but I’m going to need coffee before I can figure it out.

I open and close the cupboards. The place hasn’t been stocked in ages. I grab my coat and consider leaving Summer a note. It’s not in my nature to bolt without so much as a goodbye. Then again, it’s not in my nature to have sleepovers either. I grab a piece of paper, scribble that I’m headed out to get us breakfast and step outside.

I pull out my phone again and open the app that allows me to order from Hauser’s, my favorite breakfast spot. Since I don’t know what Summer likes, I order a ton of food, then shove my phone back into my pocket after I prepay. I should probably cool it with the big gestures—it might tip her off that I’m not the bartender of modest means I’m pretending to be.

Snow crunches beneath my feet as I follow the path to the café, and monstrous clouds cast shadows over the ski hills. I’m guessing we’ll be getting a storm like everyone was speculating. That will really put a damper on Winterfest, which begins tomorrow. It’s an annual festival to raise money for charity, so they’ll go through with it as best they can, despite the weather. I’d planned to be gone before the storm hits and the place grew busier with the upcoming festivities. But now I’m not so sure that’s going to happen. I think I’m going to have to hang around until I hear from my grandfather. And while I’m waiting, I plan to get to know Summer better, to see who she really is and what’s really going on with her before I report back to Granddad.

I nod a good-morning at a couple walking by and weave through the path to the restaurant that is famous for its Belgian waffles. Long strides take me to my destination in record time, and when I pull the door open the fresh scent of dark roasted coffee fills my nostrils. I might need two extralarge this morning. I step up to the counter and give my name, then hang back as they seat guests.

From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Summer’s friends as they linger over coffee. Shit. I don’t want to make conversation, so I inch back a bit more, but I think they’ve already seen me. If Summer wants them to know she slept with me it’ll come from her, not me. Although one look at me, or her, and it’s easy to tell we were up all night partaking in a sex marathon. My order comes out, and I grab it and dash outside. I retrace my steps back to my chalet and when I enter, I hear water running in the bathroom.

I set the food on the counter, and step up to the closed door. Hand on knob, I listen for a moment, all the while trying not to visualize her in there naked, soaping up her perfect body. Too late, I’m visualizing it. I clench down on my teeth, then knock.

“Summer, I’m back and I have breakfast.” The water stops running, and I step back, before I do something stupid, like barge in and fuck her in the shower.

“I’ll be right out,” she says, and I grit my teeth at the sound of her sultry voice. Will things be awkward between us this morning? I never hang around or do morning-afters, so I’m not sure what to expect from her. I back up and stare at the door until she comes out, wrapped in nothing but a big fluffy towel.

“Good morning,” she says, her cheeks a sexy shade of pink.

I follow her bright, cheery tone that sets the mood for us. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” She looks past my shoulder. “Tell me you have coffee.”

“I have coffee.” I stand there, unmoving, and she smiles at me.

She blinks up at me. “Everything okay?”

“Ah, do you want to get dressed first?”

“No, I’m okay.” She moves past me, and her laugh reverberates through my body, settles in my balls. Did she just give an extra shake to her backside? “Tate, did you order one of everything again?” she asks when she sees the bags.

“I—”

“Didn’t know what I liked,” she says, finishing my sentence for me. There’s concern in her eyes for a brief flash. “This is totally unnecessary by the way...but very sweet of you.”

“Sweet?”

She pulls container after container from the bags, and glances at me over her shoulder. “What, another word you’ve never been called before?” Her teasing voice seeps through my veins, and I’m pretty certain she’s playing with me, testing my hard-earned control.

I reach into the cupboard and pull out plates. “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Just milk.”

I dump out the bag with the milk and sugar and fix her coffee for her. “How’s this look?”

“It looks like heaven.” She wraps her hands around the paper cup. She breathes it in, and the small smile on her flushed face is sexy as hell. She takes a small sip. “Mmm.”

“Fuck.”

Her eyes open. “What?”

Okay, yeah, she’s messing with me. “Do you know that’s the same sound you make in bed?”

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